


Busted

by warbreaker



Category: Final Fantasy XIII Series, Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Alternate Canon, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Ice Play, Ice Powers, Power Play, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 09:25:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2343416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warbreaker/pseuds/warbreaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU of Lightning Returns, in which Lightning actually catches up to Snow after the intro of the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Busted

**Author's Note:**

> Fic titled after the song "Busted" by Matchbox Twenty, which I may or may not have had on repeat while writing parts of this.

"Nowhere left to run, Snow."

Lightning held her ground at a safe distance as she eyed his every move. He stood with his back to her, frowning in frustration at the broken door that'd barred his path and allowed her to catch up with him. She recognized the expression. Snow had the kind of look on his face that told her that someone was going to get either demoted or fired later. Higher ranked officials back in the Guardian Corps seemed to wear the expression permanently. Strangely enough, she couldn't help but think that it looked good on him. Suited him, even.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. Lightning balled her hands into fists in order to keep from drawing her sword. She wasn't sure what it was, exactly, but something set her on edge every time he looked at her. She supposed that she simply wasn't used to the sight of him; it was so different from how she remembered him in her mind's eye. He was thinner than he had been the last time she'd seen him by at least twenty pounds, and he looked to be the same number of years older. His face was drawn and his cheeks sunken. There were lines around his eyes and mouth that definitely hadn't been there five hundred years ago, and that was to say nothing of the dark circles or his weighted brow. In a world where time had stopped and aging was impossible, it worried her. Could stress alone have this kind of effect on a person? He looked exhausted and wound up nearly to the point of snapping, and his nerves seemed to be completely shot. They were dangerous traits to be found in a l'Cie.

"I guess not," he sighed.

" _Be careful, Light,_ " Hope's voice came in through her earpiece. " _That man standing in front of you isn't the same Snow you knew back on Cocoon. In fact, I might even go so far as to say that that person died five hundred years ago. Whoever that is now,_ what _ever it is... it isn't Snow._ "

Lightning set her jaw. Now wasn't the time to start an argument with Hope over her headset, but she rejected the notion that Snow was somehow too far gone now to be saved. The centuries had changed him. She knew that. Sure, he was a little worse for wear after all those long years. Sure, he was acting like a colossal tool in his grief. But, really, had there ever been a time when Snow _wasn't_ a colossal tool? There had to be _something_ still left inside of him that wasn't corrupted from the Chaos — something that extended beyond his shocking new persona as a sleek and powerful politician who was constantly surrounded by booze, drugs, and women.

She nearly spat in disgust at the thought. Of all the places she expected to find Snow, this would've been at the bottom of her list. Stupidly throwing himself into Chaos to protect the people of his city seemed pretty par for the course for him, but night clubs? Parties? _Strip shows_? That wasn't like him. Even if he'd moved on from his love for Serah, it just didn't make sense in her head.

"So, this is what you do?" she asked him. "This is how you act? Serah dies, and you sit around and watch other women dance?"

He finally turned to face her then. A cocky grin tugged at his lips, and an uncharacteristic sense of smugness and self-satisfaction showed in his eyes. It told her so much. She tensed beneath his gaze, furious with him for what he was wordlessly revealing to her. They weren't just strippers; they didn't just dance, didn't pack up and go home after the show was over. She knew it — she'd _known_ it, but to think of Snow like that — to think of him partying like a frat boy while the world crumbled around him — to think of him using his political power and hero status to lure women — to think of him putting his hands on anyone other than Serah, and doing it in such great quantities that he was practically dragging his dick all over this city —

"It goes a lot further than that," he said.

She threw a punch at him.

Much to her surprise, it didn't connect, and she nearly lost her balance from the momentum. It was only when she recovered and regained her footing that she realized that Snow had side-stepped the attack and was now standing behind her. He casually placed his hands on either of her shoulders and held them there. Something about his touch made her skin crawl. There was nothing friendly or innocent about the gesture, and Lightning was suddenly _very_ aware of Snow's close proximity to her.

"I wasn't expecting sympathy," he said. "You never exactly were the 'intimate' type, were you, Sis?"

"I'm not your sister," she snapped.

"No, of course not," he said. "Nothing's ever gonna break down your walls, is it? I know the feeling."

She had no response for him. His hands rolled off of her shoulders, and his fingertips trailed down the length of her back. Lightning sucked in a breath and held it. The touch was too familiar, too comfortable. Too intimate. And yet as he reached the smallest part of her waist and gripped the curve of her hips, she made no effort to pull away. Pulling away would mean that she felt threatened, and feeling threatened would mean giving some credence to the idea that Snow wasn't really Snow.

"...But after five hundred years of being alone with your guilt trapped inside those walls, maybe even you would start to crack," he concluded.

"Even if I did, I wouldn't do what you're doing," she said. "I'd probably just drink like a normal person."

"I did, for a while," he said. "In fact, I tried just about everything. Everything you could think of to wash away the memories. After a while, blacking out starts to lose its charm. And now this is the only thing that works anymore..."

He took a step forward, pressing his body against hers. His broad, solid chest molded itself against her back, and his crotch pushed against the top of her ass. She could feel him peering down over her shoulder, undoubtedly enjoying the view of her body from his vantage point.

Snow craned his neck down to whisper in her ear, and his lips brushed against it as he spoke.

"... The only thing that lets me forget, even if only for a few hours."

She couldn't take it anymore. Lightning jerked herself away from him, out of his grip, and in one swift motion, she turned on her heels and ripped her sword from its sheath, pointing it at his neck and keeping him at more than arm's length. It was too much. Snow putting his hands on her, talking to her like this... there was supposed to be some kind of barrier between them — some line drawn in the sand as family that kept all mentions of sex out of their relationship — and Snow just crossed it.

Except, that barrier had always been Serah, and Serah was gone now.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she spat.

He held his arms out to the sides in a defensive manner. If he'd been amused or smiling before, he wasn't now. The expression on his face was drawn and serious, and all hints of mirth had been stolen from behind his eyes.

"I just want you to understand," he explained calmly.

Lightning lowered her sword, feeling a scowl twist its way onto her lips. Snow dropped his arms then, too, and for a moment, they were back to their original stand-off.

"I get it," she hissed.

"I know you do," he said. "So stop acting like you don't — !"

Before she even noticed he'd moved, Snow was on her, poised and ready to throw a punch. Lightning jumped back, moving out of his range before raising her sword again. She couldn't believe it. After all that, he was really going to pick a fight with her?

She raised her sword defensively. He came at her again, and she slashed at him to deflect the blow. Too late, she realized that he hadn't been aiming for her face or any of her vitals at all. He managed to grab her by the wrist, and before she could even move to shake him off, he'd already successfully disarmed her. It happened so quickly that she wasn't even sure how or when she'd given him the opening, and he didn't give her time to dwell on it. His grip moved from her wrist to her collar, and he slammed her back up against the wall, hard. The back of her head smacked against the marble, and she was left completely stunned by the speed and strength by which he'd overpowered her.

 _Stupid,_ she scolded herself. _You got cocky. If you'd been up against anyone else, you'd be dead right now._ She'd been judging Snow by the fight he'd put up in the foyer, but it only made sense now to think that he'd been holding back against her then. With so many people around and so little time for them to disperse, it would've been stupid for him to go at her full force right out of the gate.

He held her firm against the wall, trapping her in with the sheer mass of his body. His closeness now was far more intimidating than it'd been before, partially because she could still feel the lingering weight of his too-friendly touches on her back and hips, and partially because Lightning couldn't shake the feeling that, this time, he wasn't going to let her go.

"Back up, Snow," she warned.

His grip on her collar tightened, and anger flashed behind his eyes.

"In the end, you're the only one who understands," he said. His words were scathing, and every single one came out as a threat. "You're the only one who knows what it's like to have to live without her. Without Serah. I've broken every promise I ever made to her, but haven't you, too? Huh? What makes you think you can judge me?"

"I said," she warned again, " _back up_."

Gritting her teeth, she flattened herself against the wall, trying to open up as much distance between herself and Snow as possible. It was just enough to allow her to raise a knee to her chest and slam her foot into his stomach. Surprised, he stumbled backwards, relinquishing his hold on her as he did. Lightning didn't let up on her assault, and she kept her forward momentum going with a follow-up, well-deserved punch to the face.

If she'd hurt him at all, though, he didn't show it. Snow was a man made of steel and iron, and he recovered almost immediately, straightening his posture and holding his arms out in a challenge. He wore his fury plain on his face, and he looked flushed and wild-eyed in a way that Lightning didn't immediately recognize.

"Go on, hit me again!" he shouted at her. "I can take it!"

It was only then that she hesitated. Snow raising his voice at her was nothing new, but his eager willingness to be abused was. Lightning wrinkled her brow in trepidation as she studied him, searching for any sort of hint of what might've been going through his head then.

"What are you—"

"Come on, Savior," he challenged. "If what you need is a _reason_ to kill me, I'll give you a thousand. A million."

Her mind flickered back to his speech about escapism, and suddenly she felt herself scowling again.

"You're getting off on this, aren't you?" she asked, deadpan.

"Aren't _you?_ " he shot back.

Her kneejerk reaction was to unload on him — to spit out a venomous _no_ and throw another punch — but she caught herself in that line of thinking before she acted. That was exactly his point, wasn't it? Lightning huffed out a breath and took a moment to compose herself, mulling it all over in her mind. It was only then that she was able to notice the tingling in her fingertips from the rush of adrenaline that still hadn't gone away, and the high she felt from her racing pulse.

_As long as I was fighting, nothing else was real._

Her own words echoed in her head from a time a thousand years in the past. In the end, nothing had really changed, had it? Lightning grit her teeth and closed her hands into fists at her sides, hating herself. Snow was right; she had no ground on which to judge him, because they were one in the same. When she looked at him now, she could only see the worst parts of herself staring back. She had no response for him — no excuse or defense against his accusation — and suddenly, Snow was all collected confidence again. He laughed a humorless laugh and took a few wide, cautious steps around her, circling her like a predatory cat.

"You can try to hide it from everyone else, but you can't lie to me, Lightning," he said. "I know the truth."

"And what truth might that be?" she asked.

"That you're just as messed up and broken as I am," he said. "Probably have been for a lot longer than I ever was."

"You're making an awful lot of assumptions there, Snow," she said. "And you're starting to tread on some mighty dangerous ground."

"That's the idea."

He closed the distance between them, but made no effort to trap her again. This time, Lightning didn't flinch or turn away.

"So what's it gonna be?" he asked.

She could still walk away. She could take Hope's advice and back off for now, gather up her sword, and face Snow when she was more ready to deal with the reality that he seemed so insistent on dropping on her. But if she did — if she abandoned Snow now — would she be able to live with herself for it? He was asking her for death. If she failed to provide it, would he do it to himself?

Seconds oozed by as he stared her down, patiently awaiting her response. She hated him for this — would probably _always_ hate him for this — but his words kept buzzing around her head like an angry hornet. She was running again. Running, hiding, fighting. Escaping, just the same as he was. And he was reaching out to her now, offering her some relief in their solidarity, or begging to be put out of his misery without it. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she knew exactly how he felt.

" _Light,_ " Hope's voice came in through her earpiece, " _what's going on down there?_ "

Without saying a word, she reached up and yanked the thing out of her ear. Silence hung heavy as it softly clattered to the floor. If Snow was at all curious or suspicious about who she might have been communicating with this whole time, he didn't say anything. He merely spared the discarded earpiece a quick glance, seeming to understand the significance of it being thrown away. Lightning's answer was clear.

Snow leaned in and kissed her. Hard. She shoved him away violently, moving purely on instinct, and followed it up with a hard right hook to the jaw.

"Fuck you!" she spat.

As he was still recovering, she grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him back in for another kiss. His response was immediate. His lips crashed into hers, desperate and needy, and she welcomed his tongue into her mouth without hesitation. Lightning felt her back slam against the wall again before she even noticed she was moving, and in the next instant, Snow's bare hands were on the exposed skin along her sides, though she had no idea when he'd had time to remove his gloves.

His kiss was like a perfect storm — frenzied, powerful, and dangerously precise. Lightning felt drunk on the heat of his mouth and the press of his lips, dimly aware of the fact that she'd never been kissed like this before. Raw emotion and unbridled passion weren't things she was particularly good at or sought out in her relationships, but they seemed to be the only things that Snow was capable of. He poured all of his pain, all of his fury, and every betrayal he'd felt over the long centuries into every roll of his jaw and every swipe of his tongue. It was all Lightning could do to stand there and take it.

All the while, his fingers were deftly working, expertly undoing the clasps of her armor. This didn't seem to be the first overly complicated outfit he'd taken off of a woman, or even the fiftieth. Her cape and epaulets came free first, and then he moved to work on everything else.

Lightning's job was considerably easier. She tugged at the buttons of his double-breasted suit jacket and found that he wore no shirt beneath it. Even after five hundred years, he still didn't know how to dress himself. She honestly didn't know what else she expected. She pushed his jacket down around his shoulders, and he stopped what he was doing momentarily in order to let the garment slide off of his arms and fall away. He resumed his own task immediately.

Her breastplate finally clamored to floor, already forgotten. Lightning shivered as the free air hit her naked body, standing totally nude now except for her knee-high armored boots. When she tried to go for the button of Snow's pants in order to even the playing field, he swatted her hands away. If Lightning's lips weren't still busy with his, she would've scowled at him again. Stubborn man.

He gathered her into his arms and hoisted her off of her feet. Lightning's head spun from the sudden shift in balance, and she wrapped her legs around Snow's waist as an anchor. He moaned softly into the kiss before breaking it, turning his attention to her jaw and neck. Swallowing hard, Lightning closed her eyes and let him take over, if for only a second. She was still reeling from how quickly things had escalated, and she was still trying to reconcile the feeling of being sandwiched between the cold, hard marble wall against her back and Snow's warm, strong chest at her front, her bare breasts pressed against him.

His hot breath rolled over her skin as he trailed a series of rough kisses down the side of her neck, more teeth than lips. As he reached the nape of her neck, he bit into her, creating a seal with his mouth and sucking on the skin. Lightning hissed and knotted her fists in his hair, pulling hard in an attempt to force him away. He didn't budge. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it, and he moaned again for her with his mouth still against her neck. He was undoubtedly going to leave a bruise.

"Damn it, Snow," she scolded, "how the hell am I supposed to explain this?"

He finally pulled away, his lips coming free with a loud smacking sound. In the next second, he pressed a chaste and gentle kiss over the exact same spot, almost as an apology for his prior roughness. He hummed thoughtfully against her as he mulled over the question.

"Explain it to who?" he asked. "God?"

 _Not just God,_ she thought to herself. _Hope. And Serah, too._ A wave of guilt washed over her at that last part. Snow belonged to Serah. No matter how many years passed, it would never be long enough to change that or for what they were doing to be okay. When Lightning brought Serah back — and she _would_ bring Serah back — would she even be able to face her?

It wasn't too late. She could stop all this right now. She could chalk it up to a poor decision made in the heat of the moment and beg Serah's forgiveness. She could —

Snow caught Lightning's earlobe between his lips. She gasped, and her mind temporarily went blank.

"Fuck God," he whispered in her ear. "You were mine first."

She opened her mouth to protest, to yell at him, to tell him that she wasn't _his_ and would never be his — that _Serah_ was the one who was his — but he cut her off pre-emptively with one simple word:

"... Sis."

She froze. Her mind completely shut down any and all attempts to consider the implication behind his words. The entire situation was screwed up enough without Snow thinking of her as being his sister while she was naked and breathless and pressed up against him. Yet for some reason, she couldn't find it within herself to be disgusted by it.

The next thing she knew, she was laid out on her back on the floor, kissing Snow again. It was more controlled than last time, but it was no less arousing or passionate. It might have even been moreso. She met his lips and tongue with her own again and again in a perfect, comfortable rhythm, both of them passing appreciative moans back and forth along the way. It almost felt like the sealing of an unspoken contract — as if to say _yes, fuck God. Our bond is stronger._ Lightning snaked her hands up Snow's chest and gripped him by the shoulders, pulling him in closer. It wasn't until now that she realized how badly she needed this — how badly she needed _him_. After so many lonely years sealed away in crystal, she needed to connect with someone again — needed to feel close to another real, warm, living, breathing human being — and Snow was the only one she trusted to keep her most private thoughts and fears truly private between them.

Snow placed a hand on either one of Lightning's knees and pushed them apart, spreading her legs as wide as he could. She tightened her grip on him, feeling slightly sheepish at being so openly exposed to him, even though she knew that the notion was foolish. He raked his fingertips along the insides of her thighs, and Lightning gasped beneath his touch, breaking the kiss. It was _freezing._ She could feel tiny, delicate frost crystals cling to her in the wake of his fingers. The crystals melted almost immediately from the heat of her body, leaving thin trails of water all along her skin. A little bit of l'Cie magic. She arched her back as he got closer and closer to her center, and a dull, insistent throb took up residency right at his goal.

L'Cie power was like an ocean — vast, deep, and powerful — ready to swallow up anyone who breached its surface. It must have taken Snow an immense amount of willpower and focused concentration to control it so precisely, even with years and years of practice. This was a man capable of dangerous things.

For the first time in this entire encounter, Lightning was afraid of him.

He chuckled darkly at her reaction, and then leaned in to press his lips right between her breasts. She let out a shuddering exhale, hating how much this turned her on. Just the mere thought of a man who might be just as strong or stronger than her, especially with the power of Bhunivelze's blessing at her back, was more thrilling than anything else she could think of. She could already feel the rush that came from the challenge.

"You're so sensitive, Sis," he said. "When was the last time anyone gave you a little attention?"

" _Stop calling me that_ ," she choked out. She was shocked to hear how high-pitched and frantic her voice had become.

He chuckled at her again. "Just trying to have fun."

She scoffed and rolled her head to the side, turning away from him and trying to ignore whatever sick incest fantasy he was projecting onto her. Snow was undeterred by her reaction; he closed his lips around her left nipple and began to gently suck on the fullness of her breast. He groped at the other with his hand, squeezing it roughly and rolling the erect tip between his thumb and forefinger. Lightning whimpered softly and ran her fingers through Snow's long blonde hair in encouragement. The hot, wet vacuum of his mouth made her whole body shiver, and the throbbing between her legs became even more demanding.

That was when she felt his hand there — or, rather, the magic coating it. Snow found her clit immediately and expertly, and the pad of his forefinger felt like an ice cube against her skin. Lightning's breath stuttered and she arched her back again, higher than she did last time, throwing her head back and closing her eyes. The freezing cold, slick wetness of the frost against her swollen clit made her whole body tense, and she could hear herself whimper. Snow moved his finger in slow circles around her most sensitive spot, and at the same time switched position to suck at her right breast instead.

He teased her like that for a while. Lightning shuddered and moaned, sounding like a porn star to her own ears and decisively not caring. If Snow wanted to pamper her, then she was going to allow herself to enjoy it. He rolled the flat of his tongue across her pink nipple, and he slowly traced up and down the inside of her pussy with his icy touch. Lightning rolled her hips in time with his ministrations, riding his fingers eagerly, desperate for more. She licked her drying lips and tried to swallow, but she found no relief there.

She settled back against the floor as Snow led a trail of kisses down the center of her stomach. He pulled his hands away from what they were doing in order to grab at the backs of her thighs and gently roll her hips up towards him. She put up no fight, even as her knees touched her shoulders, and watched with lidded eyes as he worked his way down her body.

He pressed a kiss against the outer lip of her labia first, and then followed it up with a cautionary swipe of his tongue along the inside. When Lightning gave no protest, he leaned in to taste her in full. He dragged the tip of his tongue up and down between her inner folds a few times before peeking it just barely inside her entrance. Lightning gasped and tightened a fist in his hair, tugging hard. He responded by slowly pulling his tongue out of her, lapping at the wetness that'd gathered around her aching hole. He moaned softly against her flesh as though in appreciation for the taste, and Lightning felt the vibration of his voice throughout her entire body.

She grabbed herself behind the knees and pulled her legs back further and spread them apart wider for him. Snow removed his own hands from her legs and placed them closer to his area of focus, spreading the lips of her labia with two of his fingers. It gave him easier access and a wider surface to cover, and he explored every inch of her snatch with his hot, wet tongue, gauging her reactions and adjusting accordingly. When he passed over her clit, she bit her lip and groaned. Snow laved the flat of his tongue across it in slow, wide circles — once, twice, and then on the third time, he closed his lips around it and began to suck on it greedily. Lightning's mouth dropped open, and she whimpered out a loud, pathetic moan. After a few seconds, he pulled his lips away and replaced them once again with his tongue. He flicked the featherweight touch of the tip of his tongue across her clit again and again, and Lightning threw her head back in ecstasy.

His hands fell away from her body, and she looked down at him, confused. While she couldn't explicitly see what he was doing, she could feel him adjusting himself and hear the zip of his fly being undone. She held her breath in anticipation. Snow didn't pull his mouth away from its place on her wet cunt, still alternating between sucking and licking. Before long, the sound of skin hitting skin filled the room alongside all of the other noises they were making. Lightning shifted her head to peer down around the outside curve of her leg and found him jerking himself off as he continued to eat her out. The very sight of it made her feel dizzy; it was unreal to think that she'd gotten him to that point already, and she hadn't even touched him, really.

"Tastes that good, huh?" she choked, breathless.

He glanced up at her. There was nothing but lust in his dark blue eyes.

"Better than I dreamed," he said, pulling away a few inches.

Lightning released her hold on her own legs, and the soles of her boots fell to the floor with a loud _clop_. Had he really been dreaming about her? Like _this?_ Was it because of his loneliness — his desperation to connect with a kindred spirit? Or was it something else? Snow sat back on his heels, still stroking his powerful erection as he looked down at her naked body. It gave Lightning a good view of his, too.

If he _had_ been dreaming of her purely out of lust, she would be lying if she tried to say that it wasn't mutual, at least on some level. Lightning was a sucker for strong arms, a broad chest, and broader shoulders, and Snow was that epitomized. While he'd always been completely off-limits as Serah's fiance and, later, Lightning's own family, it didn't stop her from looking. Ever since she'd first seen him without that ridiculous trench coat of his or a shirt on back in Palumpolum all those long years ago, she'd never stopped stealing glances. Her eyes roved over him now, unguarded and unabashed at the sight of his tight muscles; at the light dusting of body hair that was nearly invisible against his skin; at the shallow veins encircling his forearms; at his enormous hands, as one of them continued to work up and down the length of his thick cock and the other tugged at the open fly framing his package in order to give himself a little bit more breathing room.

"Are you ready for me, Savior?" he asked.

She eyed him suspiciously. If there had ever been any doubt in her mind about Snow really being who he was, it was gone now. No man that Lightning had ever been with had simply just gone down on her and said that it was enough; time for sex. Only Snow would do something like that. He was too selfless and giving for his own good, even now, at the end of all things.

"Now or never," she said.

He smirked, appearing satisfied with that answer. Lightning spread her legs a little wider as Snow leaned down to close the distance between them. One of his hands fell to her hip in order to angle her up further towards him. The other remained wrapped around his cock as he began to slowly guide himself inside of her.

She blew out a heavy breath at the sensation of being penetrated. In his own hands, Snow's cock had seemed like any other normal, proportionate part of his body. Pressed against her now, it felt _enormous._ The man was an absolute fucking behemoth, and Lightning could scarcely believe how readily her body accepted him — at how easily that giant cock slipped inside her wet and aching pussy. She watched him as the final inch disappeared inside of her, and Snow balked as his breathing failed the second his hips met hers. He looked at her with wide and wild eyes, awestruck.

"Shit, Lightning," he hissed.

Lightning pressed her lips together and took a few deep, steadying breaths in through her nose. The friction between them was almost unbearable, and she felt the pressure of being filled all the way to the backs of her eyes. Snow seemed to be struggling to adjust, too, judging from the look on his face. He was a near-literal giant; he likely wasn't used to being with a woman who could accommodate his entire length.

Against her better judgement, Lightning wondered if that included Serah, too. Her sister had always looked so small and delicate in Snow's arms.

" _Move_ ," she ordered.

He didn't need to be told twice. Snow held his body against hers as he began to rock his hips in an almost cyclical motion — slowly, at first, as they both eased into it. He moved just enough to pull his cock out halfway before thrusting into her again, pushing in as deep as he could. It came back harder and harder each time, until he was fucking her at a fast, rough pace. Their hips smacked together on each and every downthrust, and the force he put behind it already left Lightning gasping for breath and feeling dizzy.

Snow tangled both of his hands in her hair, and he yanked her entire head back by her scalp. Lightning hissed at the pain and dug her nails into his back, dragging them along the curve beneath his shoulderblades. She wasn't sure if she was drawing blood, or if that was just his sweat beneath her fingers, but he groaned in response, dragging his teeth along the undershelf of her chin and jaw.

This wasn't what she expected sex with Snow to be like. She always thought that such an act would involve his hulking, overgrown mass struggling on top of her, panting in between asking the question "do you like that?" over and over again. She often pitied Serah for it.

But no. This was different.

His hips rocked into hers again and again in perfect time, like a finely-tuned machine. There was enough force behind it that her whole body felt like it was building up with pressure, but not so much that it hurt. He kept the backs of her legs propped up on his thighs as though they belonged there, angling her hips in such a way that every single thrust went straight to her head. Maybe it was five hundred years of experience, or maybe it was just some carefully honed natural talent, but somewhere in the back of Lightning's mind she was dimly aware of the fact that she'd been wrong about him. Dead wrong. The mere lack of vindication alone made her angry.

"I'll kill you for this," Lightning forced, her voice strained.

"Dear god, I hope you do."

His mouth was on hers before she had the chance to react to the statement, but she didn't resist him. There wasn't any time for her to dwell on the implications of it that way, because she knew that if she thought about it for more than a moment, she'd force herself to end this farce. There was nothing about what they were doing that was about attraction or even the sex itself – it was purely self-destructive in nature, but it was a temporary relief from the burden of the guilt and sin they both shared.

Lightning closed her eyes and reciprocated on his advances, her lips and tongue brushing up against his in a series of shallow open-mouthed kisses. The floor was cold and hard beneath her back, but Snow's mouth was warm, inviting, and the perfect complement to the rough way he was fucking her. Both of her hands traveled up his chest and snaked around to the sides of his neck, urging him in closer. Heavy breathing and small noises of effort from both of them sounded off in between each kiss, and Snow hummed the tiniest bit in appreciation for her touch.

He untangled his fingers from her scalp and moved his open palms down the length of her body, making sure he hit every curve, until both hands circled around to her backside to lightly grab at her ass. It was so subtle and so intimate a touch that a part of Lightning thought that being touched like this should’ve been uncomfortable, or even embarrassing in some way, but the feeling of his giant, rough hands on her bare skin made her feel otherwise. He broke from the kiss and sat up straight. His grip finally fell to either one of her hips, holding her in place as he continued to fuck her.

"Fuck," she whispered, rolling her head to the side.

She could feel his eyes on her. She didn't open her own, but she could still _feel_ him looking at her — watching her chest rise and fall with every labored breath; taking note of the way each one of her muscles moved; following the movements of her breasts as they bounced in time with every thrust of his hips; drinking in the sight of her thoroughly enjoying herself as he had his way with her. A strange mix of anger and vulnerability coursed through her, and her first reaction was to want to hit him. Again. But this time, she couldn't find the strength.

"Don't look at me," she croaked.

He didn't respond right away, and for a few too-long seconds, the sounds of sex filled the room and echoed in her ears. Lightning closed her hands into tight fists and tried to block out the world around her, but it didn't work.

"Too late," he said finally, his voice low and heavy under the weight of his arousal. "Can't take my eyes off you."

His words sent shivers down her spine, and in that moment, she hated him. She hated him so goddamn much. He wasn't supposed to do this to her, and she wasn't supposed to like it. The pressure inside her continue to build and build. Lightning whimpered and moaned, sounding off every time he pushed into her, loving the attention and the rough treatment he gave her. Her whole body felt like it was on fire, and she couldn't focus on anything other than the long, thick cock pistoning in and out of her wet, throbbing cunt.

She gasped then, caught off guard by the suddenness of her impending orgasm. Her eyes went wide with surprise as she looked at him in disbelief. _Snow Villiers_ was going to make her come. If someone had told her this even so much as an hour ago, she wouldn't have believed them. She reached down and put her hand over his, but she wasn't sure what she was trying to convey with that touch – stop? – go faster? – keep at it? – don't let me do this you son of a bitch because you're an asshole and I hate you? A mixture of all four, probably.

Whatever she was trying to say, Snow seemed to understand perfectly – or at least well enough to figure out that she was near to climaxing. He leaned forward again, resting one forearm on the floor for support as he hovered over her. Every gasping breath was a struggle for air, and she was losing the feeling in her limbs. Snow placed his free hand on her cheek and reached around to grip the back of her head by the base of her skull, forcing her to face him.

"Look at me," he demanded. "Look at me when you come."

She cracked her eyes open and looked at him, but not to obey his order. With all of the strength she had remaining in her left arm, she reached up and grabbed him by the throat. It was just hard enough for him to feel it, and she held him there stubbornly, denying herself release out of spite.

"I don't take orders from you," she shot back, though it came out less threatening than she would have liked. "I'm not one of your fuck toys, Snow."

His blue eyes bored into hers. There was something dark behind them, something terrible and demanding. He didn't let go of her, wouldn't let her move or turn away.

"Say my name again," he said. His voice was growing hoarse and ragged now.

She released her hold on his neck and slapped him in the face. It was all she could muster for the time being. A self-satisfied smirk appeared on his lips — as though that was just what he'd wanted her to do — but Lightning didn't even have time to be mad about it. She closed her eyes again. The dam holding back the pressure between her legs finally broke. Snow continued to ride her hard through her orgasm, and the heat of his body and the thickness of his cock were suddenly the only things in her life that were important. Lightning cried out and her whole body tensed as the outside world disappeared around her. It felt so good — so fucking good — to just lose control of herself and let it all go, if only just for now.

Snow had been right. Getting black-out drunk didn't hold a candle to this.

When she felt like she was finally coming down, Lightning sucked in a few deep breaths and ventured to open her eyes. At some point, Snow had let go of her head. He was watching her intensely, enraptured, as he continued to dutifully pump away. So she had finished without him. She almost felt bad. Almost.

"How was that?" he asked, a certain smugness in his voice.

"Shut up."

She shifted her weight then, shoving against him in order to roll them both over in one swift motion. Snow landed hard on his back, and Lightning positioned herself comfortably on top of him, never once breaking away. He shifted a bit against the concrete floor as he adjusted to the change, but Lightning wasted no time. She placed both hands on his abs for support as she began to roll her hips against his, taking charge and fucking him with purpose.

"You're a real bastard, you know that?" she asked him.

He grunted, but a smirk appeared on his face all the same. He reached up and placed a hand on the side of either one of her legs, gently encouraging her every movement. She took a deep breath, trying to ignore how much she liked it when he touched her.

"That's what I've been told," he replied. "I need to be punished."

"You don't deserve my punishment," she said. "You make me sick."

"And you're the one," he said, his voice strained, "who's still riding my cock anyway."

She slapped him again. Harder than she had the first time. On some level she realized that she was playing into his hand and doing exactly what he wanted, but she found herself weirdly okay with it. He reacted audibly to her assault, and Lightning felt a thrill shoot through her. She probably should have been concerned over what that said about her, but in that moment she couldn't care. She merely straightened her posture and began to use her legs in tandem with her movements, working herself up and down on his cock nearly as fast and as hard as he'd fucked her.

Snow let out a low, rumbling groan, and Lightning could feel his voice beneath her fingertips. She wet her lips and watched the way the muscles on his chest and abs relaxed and contracted with every breath he took, and how different movements of her hips made him react differently. It was suddenly so easy to understand what had caught his eye earlier — when he'd been the one watching her. Everything seemed different from up here.

Lightning threw her head back as a bead of sweat trailed down the side of her neck. Snow's hands repositioned themselves onto her hips, he and began to move his own in time with her, thrusting up into her as she rocked herself back against him. She loved the feeling of bouncing up and down on his cock — of taking every single inch inside her as they built up their rhythm together and both worked for their own release. Snow seemed to match her perfectly, and they fit together so well that she couldn't imagine having lived without fucking him before now. She wanted him — _needed_ him — so thoroughly and completely, and she wished desperately for this kind of relief, comfort, and solidarity from him every single night.

But he wasn't hers to use like that.

"Come for me again, princess," he said, his voice threatening to fail halfway through.

"I'm not your princess," she insisted, her voice hoarse and breathy. "I'm not your sister. I'm not your _anything,_ Snow."

It felt like her words should've had some kind of heavy emotional impact, but in the heat of the moment they rang hollow. She looked down at him with half-lidded eyes. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he watched her ride him, seemingly mesmerised by the sight of his whole cock disappearing inside of her with every thrust. She wrapped her hands around either one of his wrists, squeezing tight and holding him right where she wanted him as she continued to match his pace. His mouth dropped open, and for a second it looked like he was about to say something, but it came out as a series of incoherent effort sounds instead.

Lightning's head was spinning, and she realized almost too late that she was watching him climax, even as he continued to fuck her. A brief sense of panic gripped at her, but it fled just as quickly once she remembered where and when, exactly, she was. As he relaxed beneath her, she leaned forward and dropped her hands to the floor on either side of Snow's chest, holding herself up for support as she tried to catch her breath. Looking down at him, he was just as winded. He swallowed hard in between panting breaths, and there were several lines of sweat streaking down the side of his face.

"I hope you got what you wanted," Lightning breathed, unable to keep a certain bitterness from creeping into her voice.

"Yeah," he said around exhales. "You too."

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, so, hi. This fic has been sitting unfinished on my tumblr since, gosh, shortly after the game came out. Since I only seem to be capable of writing smut lately, I figured I'd pick it back up and finish it. I don't actually like this pairing as a romantic/long-term one (Snow/Serah will always be my OTP, and I'm a little partial to Caius/Lightning too), but the thought of these two, with all of their screwed up family dynamics, having unbelievably hot sex and then hating themselves and each other for it is my fuckin jam.
> 
> As always, concrit and feedback is appreciated. Thank you for reading.


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